


The Final Countdown

by Chloe_Hallow_Eve



Series: Black Paladin Lance [27]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura's Magic (Voltron), Black Paladin Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Angst, Multi, Post-Season/Series 02 (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-01 17:56:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14526051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chloe_Hallow_Eve/pseuds/Chloe_Hallow_Eve
Summary: “We're leaving together,But still it's farewellAnd maybe we'll come backTo earth, who can tell?I guess there is no one to blameWe're leaving groundWill things ever be the same again?”The final battle is upon them. Everyone prepares for what is to come.





	1. Allura

Allura hadn’t the faintest idea where to start. She knew it was there, the energy was lurking just beneath her skin. She couldn’t access it. It was like sweat, involuntarily coming in waves in stressful situations. She desperately wanted to grasp it, weaponize it, but the energy would shy away from her intentions. It always left her alone, fists balled and glaring at the floor, feeling a little hollow.

 

Things would be different if she had time. She couldn’t analyze herself and reflect on areas of improvement. She couldn’t manifest it in small doses and work her way up. She couldn’t build her strength until she no longer felt the strain of using so much energy. The war they waged was fast-paced. A constantly moving enigma. It might slow, but never stopped. She needed to be on her toes. She needed to be ready yesterquintant.

 

Allura shut her eyes tightly. She pressed her hands to her stomach, as if attempting to physically suppress the desperate anxiety rising. Her team, the Blade, the universe. They all needed her. They needed her quintessence. She needed to destroy the last dredges of the empire. It was the only way to protect them.

 

She had to protect them. She had to.

 

Her fingertips became static that spread to her hands. Allura held them up to her face. A thin pink sheen coated the skin. Not much compared to what she’d evoked against Haggar, but enough to get used to the feeling. Enough to learn how to evoke it willingly.

 

She clasped her hands and pressed the knuckles to her lips. She thanked whatever higher powers that might be watching.

 

* * *

 

Her quintessence was meant for protection. After long hours, days of experimentation in the training room alone, she found that the trigger to activate the energy was a strong desire to protect. Herself, others, it didn’t matter. When it activated in her fight with Haggar, during the last battle against Zarkon, she’d been fighting to protect her comrades and herself. Her quintessence had reacted when she’d wanted to protect herself most, when Haggar’s magic was focused on her. With renewed determination, she put her energy to the test.

 

It was difficult to manage the offense with defensive purposes. Her attempts at pure quintessence strikes usually ended in disaster, either much too strong or much too weak. She had no way of regulating how much she put in every attack.

 

She was trying to hit a target practice bot, concentrating wholey on just stunning the thing instead of completely mangling it, when the doors opened.

 

Allura’s concentration broke with the scuff of a footstep. She turned her attention to address who it was. She was rendered speechless when a bolt of pink hit the individual.

 

There was a tense moment when she and the person, Pidge, locked eyes. Pidge blinked.

 

Then, Pidge crumpled.

 

Allura let out a sound, two parts horror and one part remorse, from the back of her throat. She was at Pidge’s side in a tick. Her hands hovered over the green paladin, unsure of what to do, not wanting to move them if she’d hurt them badly enough.

 

Pidge’s eyes were glossed over, staring into nothing. They gave the occasional twitch. They otherwise seemed fine, but Allura didn’t want to take any chances. After quickly patting down their head and spine to make sure they were okay, Allura scooped Pidge into her arms and took off for the med bay.

 

* * *

 

Blue was purring comfortingly before she even stepped into the hangers. Allura smiled. Her and Blue’s bond was growing stronger every day. She stepped into the large room, calling a small greeting up to the lioness. The purrs grew in volume.

 

Allura sat on one of the lionesses giant paws, as she’d seen the other paladins do. It wasn’t entirely comfortable, but the metal beneath her thrummed and was cool to the touch. She leaned against the leg, folding her own legs carefully.

 

“I’m not sure what to do, Blue. I can’t seem to get a grasp on my quintessence. It’s as if it has a mind of its own most times. Every time I think I’m close to figuring it out…” She sighed heavily. “I could have severely injured Pidge yesterquintant. What if I continue to be unable to reign in something so dangerous? How will I fight with everyone and protect them?”

 

Blue was silent for a moment, then slowly pushed images and feelings into Allura’s mind. She explained this way that Lance once spoke of a book and movie series about humans with similar magic who used special sticks to channel their abilities. Allura imagined the paladins all with twigs, waving them around trying to do various tasks. Lance’s was just a branch, the leaves still attached. She snorted. Blue, privy to the same image, made a similar sound.

 

“While amusing, I’m not sure what you’re trying to say.”

 

Blue sent the image of the bayard. Allura’s brows furrowed. She brought said weapon out, examining the item. Her bayard was a staff, though sectioned to morph into a pseudo whip. Staffs were originally made of wood. Allura glanced up, expecting to only see Blue’s chin, but was instead met with the full gaze of the right leg of Voltron. It wasn’t as intimidating as Allura had thought it’d be. Startling and heavy, though.

 

Blue pulled up the image Allura had created of the paladins waving around sticks, putting her own spin on it as Shiro channeled a small light into the end of his. Allura looked back at her bayard, eyes widening.

 

“I can channel my quintessence through the bayard, since it reacts to my quintessence anyways.”

 

Blue rumbled affirmatively.

 

Allura hopped off of Blue’s paw, gathering her skirts in her hands, and raced towards the door. She skidded to a halt at it, turning and shouting her gratitude before taking back off down the hallway. A grin split her lips.

 

She couldn’t waste any time before she tested Blue’s theory. If it worked, that meant she could use more quintessence with less effort. Allura was beginning to understand why Lance gave his original lioness such high praise.

 

* * *

 

It was after their latest mission, where the team freed Lotor from capture, that Allura and Shiro had the chance to talk. The twister matt had been put away, the other paladins had dispersed to do whatever they wanted, and it was just the two of them left in the lounge. Allura gave Shiro a small smile, conveying her wish for a chat, and he returned it. They situated themselves on the couches.

 

“I wasn’t able to say it at the time, but you’re magic is really impressive. It probably saved us more times than I can count during that battle. I don’t think any of us could hold Haggar back like that.”

 

The image of Shiro with a twig was shoved into her mind, unprompted, by Blue. She had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from laughing. The lioness had no such reserves.

 

She cleared her throat. “Thank you. It’s taken a lot of training to get to the point where I’m confident enough to use it outside of the training room. I wasn’t entirely sure it’d work against Haggar.”

 

“I’m glad it did.” Shiro glanced at the door, then back to her. “Do you think they’re okay?”

 

Allura blinked. “The others are… as well as they could be at the moment, I suppose.”

 

Shiro frowned. “I mean, Lance specifically. Do you… think he’s alright?”

 

Allura examined Shiro for a moment. Lance had been captured, something Shiro had personal experience with. The worry in his brows was warranted. She clasped her hands in her lap.

 

“To be frank, I don’t. He’s… changed. Just as much as you changed after your expectations, most likely. He’ll be alright as long as we support him, show him he can come to us if there’s anything on his mind, and watch for if he gets worse. Then we can step in directly.” She peered into his face, wondering if he understood what she was saying completely. “We’re his friends, and we’ll be there for him.”

 

_We’re your friends. We’ll be there for you too, Shiro._

 

Shiro gazed back, the tension in his jaw signalling he’d picked up on her not-too-subtle hinting. He relaxed after a moment, though, lips tugging up. “Of course.”

 

She nodded, satisfied for the time being. “Now, this isn’t all I wanted to discuss with you.”

 

“I thought so.”

 

“With all Paladins present once more, we will be shifting back to our original places. I wanted to ask your opinion of the bayards however.”

 

“The bayards?”

 

“Yes. Up until this point, Lance has been using the black bayard and I’ve been using the blue. We could switch with those as well, in fact it’d be simpler with how our lions are made.”

 

Shiro hummed. “The lions would be more powerful with their own bayards.”

 

Allura nodded. She wasn’t sure if she could control her quintessence the same way with her staff as she could with her and Lance’s bayard, but she was willing to try.

 

Shiro glanced at his arm and smiled. “Black and I should be fine without. Thank you, though.”

 

Allura’s lips pursed. “Are you certain? Voltron won’t be as powerful as it would if you had your bayard.”

 

“If we need Voltron to be at one hundred percent, then we’ll worry about it. For now we can make do.”

 

Allura sighed. “If you’re sure.”

 

Conversation lulled. Allura examined her hands. Her nails were starting to get a little long again. She’d have to ask Lance to cut them back again in exchange for a haircut. Lions knew he needed one.

 

Shiro’s hands flitted, drawing Allura’s attention, his metal one going to the back of his neck and the other coming to rest on his knee. His face was a touch pink. Allura straightened. Anticipation coiled in her stomach.

 

“Princess, I just wanted to…” He glanced up, eyes meeting hers for a moment, before they skidded back to his lap. His mouth twisted. “... To thank you. Not just for how well you did today, or even for helping to pull me out of the astral plane. But for… for everything, really. For giving me the chance to explore space far beyond what I thought I’d be able to, for being able to fight for something, for this safe space to heal after my capture. Just… I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me.” His hands waved a little. “F-for everyone! I think everyone’s grateful for similar reasons and they’d thank you similarly.”

 

Allura placed a hand over Shiro’s flesh one. She took a moment to appreciate the warmth radiating off of his knuckles. Shiro lifted his eyes from their hands to her eyes. Allura smiled, close to the way she used to before Altea fell.

 

“Thank you, Shiro. And I’m endlessly grateful you stood and continue to stand with me. I couldn’t have asked for a better Black Paladin to help lead Voltron with.”

 

Shiro met her smile with a bright one of his own.

 

* * *

 

The bot in front of her, Allura decided, wasn’t a good test for her magic. Especially when Allura was attempting to learn how to reach inside a living person’s mind and briefly disable their movements. She frowned down at the fried piece of equipment, then looked to the observation deck.

 

“This isn’t working.”

 

Coran hummed, stroking his mustache. “Yes, it seems we’ll need some other method. Maybe we can ask Pidge to make a robot fit for these exercises.”

 

Allura shook her head. “It still wouldn’t be nearly as intricate as one of our minds.”

 

“Yes, but if you can’t navigate a machine without hurting it, it’ll be ten times harder to not do so with a living being.”

 

Allura’s frown deepened. They didn’t have much time left. They’d be facing off against Haggar, once and for all, so very soon. She looked down at her hands. She didn’t have time to master the intricacies, but if she didn’t, the plan could fail. All of their hard work would be for naught. Allura closed her eyes and took a couple of calming breaths.

 

There was a small squeak at her feet. She peeked at the four fuzzy figures there, all of which stared up at her expectantly. She smiled and knelt.

 

“Hello, what are you all doing here?”

 

Chulatt waved his arms, gesturing vaguely in the game of charades Allura was usually able to understand. Her eyes widened.

 

“No, no, I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s dangerous! I haven’t even managed to not fry a robot.”

 

There was some more squeaking and gestures, the other mice joining in.

 

“Thank you for the offer, but-”

 

Chuchule gave a particularly stern squeak, stomping a foot. Allura blinked at her. She sighed, then conceded.

 

“Alright. Thank you all very much. But only after I’m able to do it against these, alright?”

 

The mice gave her affirmatives. She patted their heads in thanks. She stood, turning to Coran with new determination. She had to try, harder than ever now, so she could do it against the mice without damaging them. She had to concentrate. She had to think of everything involved in the process, down to the smallest neuron. Allura took a breath.

 

“Okay. Let’s run it again.”

 

Coran hopped over to the control panel. “Right away, princess!”

 

Allura watched another couple bots come out from the ceiling. She took another breath, held it, then lifted her hands towards them.


	2. Lotor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor goes 'home'.

There was something to be said for his General’s ruthlessness. Whether it was directed at the enemy, or himself when he failed to check in for a long while, there were no punches held. Metaphorically and literally. 

 

Just because he was injured didn’t mean they’d abstain from treating him thusly. 

 

“I’m going to challenge you to a duel as soon as you get better. And then I’m going to pummel you!”

 

“Show some respect for your Prince, Zethrid.”

 

“Don’t tell me you don’t want to punch him right in the nose too.”

 

Axca pressed her lips together, ignoring the larger female in favour of finishing the slightly-too-tight bangadges around Lotor’s chest. Ezor sat on his dresser, toes brushing the ground with every swing of her legs. Narti stood off to the side, the only expression of her displeasure being the cross of her arms. Lotor sighed. This wouldn’t be an easy fix, he could tell. 

 

“If you’d just let us tag along on your super secret missions, you would be fine.” Ezor smiled lightly, face warm, but Lotor could feel the chill in her gaze. “But no,” she drew the vowels out, “you’ve ordered us to stay here and keep watch.”

 

“For nothing!” 

 

“Exactly, Zethrid. For nothing.” Ezor glanced at Narti, crossing her own arms to mimic the other. “Narti thinks so too.”

 

Narti’s tail flicked. 

 

“I needed you here in case the Empire decided to use its own as hostages. You know this.”

 

“Yeah, but like, when would that happen? You’re their prince, why would they suspect you? What aren’t you telling us?”

 

Axca glanced up from her work. “Needed? Past tense?”

 

Observant as ever. There was a reason she was his second in command. Lotor hummed. “I haven’t told you much of what happened, since I couldn’t very well do so without fear of my messages being intercepted, but I can explain now that I’m here. And yes, I will be needing you all by my side from now on. Maybe not at all times, but I’m certainly no longer going to keeping you planetside.”

 

Ezor leaped to standing, rushing forward with Zethrid. They stopped an arms length away. Neither said anything, just staring at him expectantly. Lotor glanced at Narti. Even she was slightly closer. 

 

A smirk curled at the corners of Lotor’s lips. “It’s about time the old hag was taken down several pegs, wouldn’t you say?”

 

* * *

 

“How was your meeting?”

 

Ezor deflated into the chair opposite of him in the small, impersonal dining room of his General’s house. “Boring. The guy wouldn’t shut up about holding, like, a parade or something for your arrival. You were right, no one knows about anything. It’s kind of sad really.”

 

“Hm. I suspect who you spoke to isn’t who’s truly in charge, but is the only one planetside.”

 

“Whatever it was, it’s working in our favour. I managed to get him to agree to an official broadcast. It’ll take them a while to set everything up, especially for multiple planets, but they can do it.”

 

“It seems I was right to send Zethrid to the station, then. It’ll take less time with both parties aware of the general plan.”

 

Axca stepped into the room, holopad in hand. “I found a day where most of the militia directly connected to Haggar will be gone. There’s not many officers planetside, but enough that it could put a wrench in our plans otherwise.”

 

Lotor tapped his fingers on the table. There wasn’t necessarily a need to be so cautious, but Lotor liked to be safe. Especially when plotting to undo everything his parents had built. It wouldn’t be easy, not by a long shot, but he was hoping to turn the tables in one fell swoop. Hopefully they had time for everything to fall into place. 

 

Ezor leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table. “How was your conference call with Voltron?”

 

Lotore hummed. “We’ll need to act as ambassadors for them and the Galra once we’re finished, but the Blade should be of some help. I’ll need to update them a little before the time comes and a little after.”

 

Axca sat next to Ezor, nodding absently. As she began to recline, her body stiffened. She stared at her holopad, face slowly twisting. She turned to Ezor with a scowl. 

 

The other squirmed under the look. “What?”

 

Axca turned the holopad to face her. “You didn’t think to tell the commander NOT to speak to the press about Prince Lotor?”

 

Ezor’s lips pressed thin, a rare expression on her, as she scanned what Lotor assumed to be an article. “I did. Guy’s just got a big mouth.”

 

Lotor motioned for the pad. Axca handed it over. It was a small clip, not all that noteworthy, except that the header read ‘PRINCE COMES PLANETSIDE’. The number of people who’d read it was already in the millions. Lotor took a deep breath. His teeth ground against each other. 

 

He could use this to his advantage. If he evaded local law enforcements, press, and basically anyone with a camera and access to the internet he’d be fine. He could even offer an interview to the ones who posted the news story and reveal when his broadcast would be. It would definitely allow a wider audience then. It would probably have to be a video interview though. 

 

“So I’m under house arrest for a while.”

 

Ezor shrugged, sheepish. “I could threaten the news people into taking down the post?”

 

“Don’t bother. It’s already circulating. Might as well let it.” He glanced at his communicator. “Give me a moment to contact the Blade and see if they have some of their soldiers here. Maybe I can request for their aid in making sure I’m not assassinated before the broadcast.”

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, Kolivan didn’t have a single Blade member on Bainghar . It also turned out that Haggar didn’t have all that many close followers on the planet, either. Most planetside Galra were peaceful. If it weren’t for the obviously Galran features, someone could land and think they were like any other welcoming species. Just with odd customs and a high combat culture. 

 

Of course, most didn’t mean all. 

 

The first assassination attempt took place while Lotor was going over what he had for his speech thus far, being careful to make sure it was perfect before he moved on. He wrote and rewrote so many lines that the meanings of the words were diminishing. He resisted scrubbing a hand over his face. Ezor, Axca, and Zethrid had gone to restock their food supply. Narti was playing with Kova in the common room, but Lotor wasn’t sure if she’d be of any use in this situation. She was incapable of delivering speeches, so she wouldn’t have any experience. Which Lotor thought, quite frankly, sucked. 

 

He leaned back, sighing, and felt his consiousness waine. He blinked the sudden dizzy spell away. His body tensed, suddenly on high alert. His instincts were screaming at him to  _ run. Get out. Hide. Fight.  _ He blinked  rapidly, holding his breath. 

 

The faintest hissing noise came from the vent. He immediately stood, stumbling and attempting to ignore the way the world tilted, and made his way to the door. The gas was fast working, and Lotor almost didn’t stumble through the doorway before his eyes drooped and he collapsed. 

 

When he woke, there was an oxygen mask over his face. Narti peered at him, Kova perched precariously on her shoulder. He blinked at her through the glass around his eyes. The mask, large and metallic, covering his whole face while feeding him clean filtered air, was close enough on his face so his eyelashes brushed it. A creeping feeling of being trapped nagged at him. Lotor resisted the urge to rip it of of his face. 

 

“Are we headed for a medical facility?”

 

Narti nodded. 

 

Lotor frowned. He turned his head, looking at the medical hovercrafts doors. Narti got the hint. 

 

They were out and running within the varga. 

 

* * *

 

Lotor and his Generals began staying in inns, switching rooms and locations almost every day. The few other attempts on his life weren’t as planned, carried out by fools his generals disposed of quickly. Lotor stayed glued to his holopad for the entirety of it, so enthralled with his work one assassin almost took off his head. Zethrid was the only one who found it amusing. 

 

Ezor contacted the news blog that had originally published about him and informed them of the broadcast date and time. Not an hour later, a new story had been published about the announcement. The broadcasters were, understandably, irritated, but Ezor smoothed things over with them as well. In the midst of the rush to prepare for the event (which had become something of a holiday for the working class, due to everyone wanting to witness the halfling prince’s statement), Lotor had Axca read and reread every draft he prepared, scrapping the old and writing an entirely new script every couple of hours. Eventually she banned him from continuing to write until he had an idea on what he wanted to say. 

 

Narti worried if the knowledge of his presence would cause the generals to postpone their missions. Lotor agreed it was a due concern. In his conference call with Voltron a couple days before the event, he mentioned the issue in passing. The true Black Paladin, Shiro, informed him he had nothing to be concerned about. I suppose not, Lotor had replied, fairly sure the coalition would be raising hell very soon. 

 

He ended up with no script mere ticks before he stepped up to the podium in front of city hall (a large metal construct meant more for protection than aesthetics). Zethrid was at his side, a physical reminder of his stature and prowess. The other generals were scounging the buildings and crowd, picking out hostiles and ‘escorting’ them away. A technician checked the projectable holoscreen in front of Lotor’s stand one last time before giving the go-ahead. Lotor observed the masses as they offered uproarious applause and cheers, then fell into a hush. There were a few moments of silence before he began. 

 

“Brother and sisters of the Galra Empire, I stand before you not as your prince, but as your Emperor. My father has recently passed, handing his throne to me, his only heir. And with this power I will bestow upon my people the knowledge that was previously hidden.’

 

“The empire, under my fathers control, was not the benevolent paradise he lead you all to believe. The militia have enslaved planets for countless decefebes, exploiting the people of all their resources, then abandoning the hapless and helpless species to die off with their land. Hundreds of peoples have suffered at the hands of the Galra, starting ten thousand years ago with the Alteans.’

 

“The truth of what happened all those decafebes ago, fabricated and falsified in our historical records, was that a rift corrupted my parents and destroyed Daibazaal. The Alteans did not destroy our original home to begin a war. Any acts of violence they committed were purely for the purpose of self defense. I have no evidence of these specific claims, but I do for the proceedings of the empire within the last handful of decafebes.”

 

He flipped the switch for the holoscreen. It flicked on, containing the image of a planet in ruins. Galran soldiers escorted chained aliens of all races through a decaying marsh. A slave camp could be seen in the background. Collective gasps and whispered doubts ran through the crowd. Lotor waited a couple moments before changing the image; a malnourished child being forced to mine, sentries monitoring his progress. The Galran symbol was bright on their chests and brandished on the child’s arm. The next, only added after given express permission from Shiro, was a clip of him in the gladiador ring. Yet to be equipped with the metal appendage, he fought with a pipe ripped from the wall against an opponent who was decently armoured and armed. Lotor had been lucky to find footage of one of Shiro’s fights. He’d offered to send it to the paladin, but had been kindly refused. Lotor could understand why. It was a brutal clip. 

 

He stopped the footage before it became too graphic. 

 

“I know there will be those of you who are skeptic, who are loyal to the empire my father created. But for as long as I am Emperor, no race will be subjected to such behavior. Any planets who wish to align themselves with the new empire will do so of their own volition, and will engage in a proper paid trade. I wish to patch up the wrongs our race have commited. While this was unknown to many of you, I implore you for assistance to right our wrongs. While we speak, my father’s right hand, Haggar, is attempting to continue his legacy. I cannot prevent her from doing so on my own.’

 

“Voltron and a group of Galra called the Blade of Marmora, among other rebel organizations, have joined forces and are freeing civilizations from slavery at a rapid pace. They need our help to undo ten thousand years of imprisonment. May I ask you to assist me in my efforts to do just that?”

 

There was but a moment of silence, then an uproar of cheers and support to match the sounds of war. Lotor was deaf for a few minutes after he left the podium. He couldn’t complain, though. He’d received just the result he’d hoped for. He couldn’t help but smirk when Axca, Ezor and Narti approached Zethrid and him. 

 

“I never understood how you could pull those kinds of speeches out of your ass.” Ezor grinned. 

 

Lotor would have shrugged if it weren’t unbecoming of an Emperor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was probably the hardest thing to write. Lotor is fun to do, but politics and assassinations aren't my forte. But I did it! And I hope you guys enjoy it!!!
> 
> I got the name for the planet from from the Hindi words for Purple Home/Purple House, bainganee ghar.


	3. Pidge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge values family above all else, even if they don't showcase it.

“I found it,” Pidge breathed, “I found out how Haggar was able to drain that planets quintessence.”

 

“I’ll go get the others, and then you can explain.” Allura rised, rushing from the room. 

 

Pidge grinned at their codes, reaching out and patting the console. “Thank you.”

 

The others assembled soon, one after another, the last ones being Allura and Lance. His hair was wet. Pidge assumed Allura had to go to the pool to get him. Pidge turned slowly around in their chair, hands rubbing together. Hunk snorted. 

 

Shiro stepped up to the screen, eyeing her work. “What do you have for us, Pidge?”

 

Pidge hit a button, bringing an image up. “This is from a passing cargo ship heading between planet’s we’ve freed. They saw something weird going on and recorded it on a wider scale than Lotor’s informants could get. It was hard to find, especially since the crew forgot about it. But this allows me to know where and how Haggar drained that planet.”

 

Keith crossed his arms, eyeing the image. His brows furrowed. “Is it that metal… thing?”

 

Said ‘thing’ was a metal cone, the end pointed towards the planet. Three prongs extended from the edge where quintessence gathered. 

 

“Yeah, actually. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s some sort of element magnet. It’s programed to take only the quintessence, see?”

 

Hunk squinted, leaning forwards. “Are those- are those people on the other end? The flat side of the cone?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“They must be Haggar’s druids.” Allura frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t think Haggar is able to take quintessence in such large amounts without the aid of her druids. Which makes the quintessence negator you, Hunk and Slav are creating all the more necessary.”

 

“Yeah. It’s almost done, but we can’t test it out. Since it kind of messed up Lance last time.”

 

Lance waved a hand, cocking a hip. “Please. I’m fine now.”

 

“Only after Pidge implanted that regulator.” Keith snorted.

 

Lance bumped his shoulder into Keith’s. “Hush.”

 

Pidge rolled their eyes. “My point is, since Allura’s more in tune with her powers, it might mess with her. We can’t risk Allura being out of commission before we strike.”

 

“Okay, so we know how she did it and where it happened. Can we use that to find her now?”

 

Pidge hummed at Shiro’s questions, frowning. “I haven’t tried yet, but I don’t think so. I don’t have the device’s signal, so I can’t hack it. The best we can do is tell our allies to be on the lookout for the device and send us a distress signal as soon as they see it. This could take days, or years realistically. We just have to be ready at all times.”

 

“That’s gonna be kind of tricky for our allies to get behind. Not everyone’s just gonna… be available.” 

 

“Then what do you propose, Lance? Without a clear way of tracking her we can’t exactly fight her whenever it pleases us.”

 

Hunk rapped his fingers on the back of his paladin chair. “Maybe we can lure her out, instead of bringing the fight to her?”

 

There was a pause. Then Allura clapped. 

 

“Of course! If we draw her out, we can have an advantage over the field and how the battle will turn out.”

 

Shiro met her eyes, smiling at her excitement, then turned to the rest of the paladins. “So how would we do that? Haggar’s clever, she’d sniff out a trap from a mile away.”

 

“We have to have something she wants.” Pidge turned to the keyboard and tapped absently at the keys without pushing them. “She’s prideful, not stupid. She’s been lurking in the background for so long, there’s hardly anything we know about her. What would she want? What can’t she refuse?”

 

Lance fiddled with his sleeves. “Well…. So, Lotor and I talk a lot, and Haggar’s his mom.”

 

The others turned to him with varying degrees of widened eyes and parted lips.  He shrugged. 

 

“But- but didn’t she torture him?” Allura asked, alarmed. She brought a hand to her mouth. “She’d willingly subject her son to that?”

 

Lance shrugged. “I’m not saying we use him to lure her out because she cares, because she’s obviously an abusive person and I don’t care if she still loves her son or not, but maybe we can like… use that familial bond by blood to track her? With magic?” He performed jazz hands for effect. 

 

Everyone’s eyes bounced back to Allura. She lowered her hands slowly, taking in the equally horrified gazes of her paladins. She took a breath. 

 

“Theo-Theoretically, I can. It’ll be more like following a person's quintessence to the source, their parents. I’m unsure if I can do that, though.”

 

Pidge turned back to the screen, staring at the crumbled planet and the device. Their throat clogged at ‘parent’, and they attempted to clear her throat. “Could you practice with me to Matt? It won’t be the exact same as with child to parent, but siblings are connected similarly, so.”

 

Pidge could feel Allura’s eyes boring into her. “Are you sure? Last time my quintessence was used on you, it….”

 

Pidge turned back around, crossing her arms. “It’ll be fine. You were using hostile energy in that moment anyways, not even intentionally against me, but with this it’ll just be tracking. It shouldn’t have any other effects. You’ve also been training with the mice, which increases the likelihood of success. And… And I trust you to not fry my brains or whatever.”

 

Allura clasped her hands together, took a breath, and nodded. “The mice are different from people, but I will try my best. I won’t let you down.”

 

Shiro placed a hand on her shoulder. “You could never disappoint us.”

 

She smiled, the tension in her body leaking away. Lance shared a glance with Keith. He tossed an arm over the other boys shoulders, neither of them caring for the water dripping onto Keith’s jacket. 

 

“Well, now that that’s settled, we’re gonna. Skedaddle. Good luck ‘Lura!” 

 

They strolled out, quickly followed by Hunk and Coran. 

 

“I’ve got some recipes to test! There’s one where you kneed the hamalag into the oflim and- well, you’ll see in a bit. Hunk, care to come along?”

 

“Yeah man, I could always go for trying some new stuff.”

 

Pidge glanced at the door, then the pair who had begun a quiet discussion (which probably consisted almost entirely of mushy, supportive stuff), and snatched their tablet from its spot under the consol, charging. They’d better leave too before the two started spewing Shakespeare. 

 

“I heard that.”

 

Oops. 

 

“Not sorry.”

 

They’d ducked out, catching the beginnings of Allura’s curious ‘who’s Shakespeare?’ They snickered. 

 

* * *

The nightmare left Pidge when they woke in a cold sweat, but Pidge didn’t need to remember it to know what it was about. The dreadful words still echoed in their head during quiet moments. 

 

_ “We were too late.” _

 

Pidge curled into a tight ball, pulling the covers over their head. They sniffled. They pressed the heels of their hands into their eyes. It had been weeks since the news of their dad, and they were still crying. They still felt like shit. And that just made them feel like more shit. They couldn’t still be like this. They had stuff to do. They had to help Allura try out her magic. They had to repair the castle systems. They had to figure out how Haggar’s machine worked so they could disable it. The tears fell quicker.

 

They were being stupid. It was stupid to still be grieving. It was stupid to get so hung up.  _ Stupid stupid stupid- _

 

There was a knock on their door.  _ Dot dash dash dot dash dot dot dot dot dot dot-  _ morse code. Pidge’s thoughts stayed blissfully focused as they worked to decipher the quick taps. 

 

‘Wassup, it ya boi.’

 

Pidge snorted. 

 

Their door slid open, unleashing the unrelenting fluorescent lights into their cave. Pidge groaned and rolled over. 

 

“Sorry,” their brother said softly, “just wanted to say hi. Since, y’know, I can hardly visit. And it’s nice to see my sibling when I do.”

 

Pidge sniffled again and made a vague noise of agreement. It came out slightly sarcastic. Matt slipped into the room, closed the door and made his way over to them. The bed dipped, covers lifted, and he was curling around them. He hooked his bony chin over their shoulder. They didn’t complain for once. 

 

“I miss dad too.”

 

Pidge’s trachea tightened. They made an involuntary whine and dug their fingers into the arms around their chest. 

 

“I can’t,” they took stuttering breaths, curling every joint in their body, “I can’t afford to- to be like,” they hated that their voice was high and wobbly. 

 

“You can. It’s okay. People- people heal at different rates.” 

 

“But I’m- I’m- I’m a fucking  _ Paladin _ . I have to be strong.”

 

“You are. Even when you cry, you’re so strong. And besides,” Matt sniffed loudly and grossly, and Pidge could hear the same wobble and pitch in his voice that they had, “if you’re big bro isn’t anywhere close to being okay, you can’t expect yourself to be.”

 

Pudge choked. They squirmed until they were facing Matt, buried their head in his chest, and grabbed onto his waist tightly. Matt hugged her with similar vigor. 

 

Pidge tried to take deep breaths, but it was difficult. They whined. “You smell like shit.”

 

Matt nodded against her shoulder. “Yeah, I- I just got out of a fight before coming. I got all sweaty.”

 

“I know,” Pidge’s voice cracked, “my face is in your armpit. I’m breathing in your sweat. It’s gross.”

 

“You’re gross.”

 

Hunk came to collect them for dinner hours later, smiling guiltily when he saw the state they were in. The siblings went anyways. Pidge rubbed the crust from their eyes, still feeling like an on fire garbage can, but knowing it was okay. After all, if their big brother, their example, wasn’t okay, what was a little sibling to do but follow in his footsteps?

 

* * *

“Allura, are you sure you want to do this when Matt’s, y’know, so close?”

 

Allura huffed at Pidge, eyes closed, hands on either side of their temples. “Quite. I want to know what I’m looking for before I try tracing it at long distances. Ergo, I need the connection to be at its strongest.”

 

“Then why isn’t Matt in the room with me?”

 

Allura paused, frowned, then resumed when the pink light surrounding her hands flickered. “He had many meetings to conduct between his forces, the blade, Lotor, and Voltron. They can stand to have a couple missing members for the duration since this is important, but I doubt they’d allow Matt, the rebel leader, leave the room.”

 

Pidge slumped, earning a light smack to their cheek when they accidentally almost ducked out of the magic on either side of their head. They sat up straight with a sigh. Pidge wasn’t used to maintaining good posture, they were always hunched over their devices. It was probably going to come back to bite them in the butt later on in life, but for now, their spine was malleable enough to take the odd positions they’d assume when working. Even if their spine did crack in several places whenever they deemed it necessary to move again. But right now, her back was complaining mildly to having to keep her body up straight. 

 

“How long is this going to take?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Have you found the connection yet? What’s it feel like?”

 

“I don’t know, I haven’t found it yet.”

 

“Do you think it’ll be a colour? Or just a vague feeling? How do you perceive colour through magic? Is it possible?”

 

“Pidge.” 

 

The scolding was light, but Allura cracked her eyes open just barely to give them a hard stare. Pidge closed their mouth. Allura resumed her earlier silence. 

 

Pidge really wished they had something to tinker with at times like this. It was hard to keep their hands still. They needed something to do. The silence and lack of knowledge on the unknown aspects of magic were charging their curious energy. They needed to know. If they could figure this magic thing out (through science and explain it scientifically, of course) imagine the leap technology could take? It might even rival Okalrion tech! Just the thought made Pidge want to grab her equipment and monitor this process and catalogue any findings. 

 

Pidge settled for grabbing some of the hair slung over Allura’s shoulder and running their fingers through it, Allura slipped one eye open to observe them again, discerned no immediate threat to her work, and closed it. Pidge grinned. 

 

Allura’s hair was something of a legend among the paladins. No one had really touched in, out of courtesy, but the white waves were always tempting. Now with the strands between their fingers, Pidge could conclude that Allura had the best hair out of all of them combined, with possible rivalry from Lotor. The hair was thick but soft and silky, and probably wouldn’t stay in place without a million bobby pins. Very unlike their own, which, when long, only required being tied in a knot and it’d stay. How did Allura get it into a tight bun all the time? Maybe there was some Altean version of a hair elastic that worked a million times better. 

 

Pidge was distracted enough by trying to find which strand of hair held the secrets of the universe that they didn’t notice the change at first. But when they looked up, they had to blink rapidly at the unexpected feeling. 

 

It was like someone layered a map of the control room over a map of the lounge. They were on seperate pieces of paper, but you could line them up if you were to shine a light under them. They vaguely knew there were others in the room, but Pidge wasn’t focused on her connections to them. Like Pidge’s consciousness had split, and what they were looking at wasn’t what was being processed. They could feel Matt, buried deep within the feeling, and wondered if they could sort of poke at it with their mind. Their question was answered when Matt poked back, no doubt pausing his meeting to explore the odd feeling. If Allura had asked Pidge where Matt was at that moment, they would have pointed in Matt’s direction instead of given a verbal reply. Too much of their mind was being taken up by this new and exciting thing to focus on speech. Sight, sound, touch, smell, taste - they all vanished to make room for the layers of reality, the folding of space, and the distortion of time. Pidge reached out to grasp Matt, their brother, their family, their best friend, when something slipped between the connection and blocked their path. 

 

Their initial reaction was to lash out at the new entity, but it did something akin to smoothing a hand over their essence, and Pidge calmed. It was Allura. Pidge didn’t know how they could tell, but they could. Pidge allowed them to slip through the connection to Matt, turning their attention elsewhere. 

 

‘Elsewhere’ turned out to be thin strings. Pidge recognised them from when they and the team went to rescue Shiro. Like last time, only the green one was lit up. Pidge reached, barely brushing the connection, and was swept away in its current. 

 

They opened their eyes in front of the Green Lion, hidden deep in a blur of foliage and flora. She purred, the rumble similar to creaking trees and rustling leaves. Pidge approached her, automatically going to sit on one of her great paws. Green lowered herself so she was laying, her mechanical tail flicking. Pidge patted the side of her jaw. 

 

“Hey girl. Where am I?”

 

Green’s reply was but a whisper of images.  _ The second level of the astral plane, where my siblings and I all reside most of the time. We cannot sleep under normal means, so we come here.  _

 

Pidge hummed, glancing at themselves. They were translucent. 

 

“Is it bad to be here for too long?”

 

_ It can be, though safer than most rest of the layers, including where Black’s cub was trapped.  _

 

“Huh.” Pidge blinked slowly at the forest around them. “How does this place work?”

 

When Green didn’t provide them with an answer, Pidge huffed. Green liked to let Pidge figure things out, and would only answer their questions when she deemed it necessary. Apparently sharing knowledge on a mysterious plane of existence wasn’t ‘need to know’. 

 

“You said ‘second level of the astral plane’. Then what’s the first? The place I sort of was when Allura was trying to find the connection between Matt and I?”

 

Green let out an approving hum. 

 

“So, in a sense, magic quintessence stuff exists on the first level of the astral plane, able to be manipulated and channeled through certain people to affect the conscious plane. Does that mean there’s a plane for the unconscious? Do we go there when we sleep? Are dreams just people manipulating their astral environment unknowingly?”

 

Pidge touched their temple lightly, staring at the floor. They might have blown their own mind. Green didn’t give them a yes or no, either, which made Pidge more anxious to know the truth. They could simply be overthinking things, but Pidge didn’t have the chance to analyse the planes the last time they visited. This was new. This was mostly untouched. This was exciting. 

 

“I have to ask Allura for her people’s old research files.”

 

Green allowed her amusement to flow through their bond.  _ You’ll have to wait, cub. You’re due in the physical plane. _

 

“What?”

 

Pidge blinked, and was back in the lounge. They were lying on a couch, Allura hovering over them, brows pinched. Matt was right behind her, his stream of concerned and slightly angry questions trailing off when he saw Pidge awake. 

 

“Oh thank Jesus.”

 

Allura, though obviously unfamiliar with the terminology, seemed to agree with the sentiment. “Pidge, are you alright? I apologize, I didn’t mean to allow your quintessence to wander like that. Both Matt and I were worried when your quintessence seemingly disappeared. Can you sit up?”

 

Pidge slipped their feet onto the ground and slowly stood, blinking away the sudden exhaustion that weighed at their body. “I’m fine, just went on an unexpected visit with Green. I’m okay.” They swayed, stumbling into Allura. “I… need a nap. A nap sounds good. But after that I have so many questions for you.”

 

Allura smiled. “Of course. I will be happy to answer them when you’re well rested.”

 

“I can take them. The meeting was almost done anyways.” 

 

Matt knelt in front of Pidge, allowing the green paladin to slip onto his back. He adjusted his little sibling then began the trek to Pidge’s room. 

 

“You really gave us a scare there, Pidgeon. Warn a guy before you go running off to your magical lion, okay?”

 

Pidge hummed, mumbling an apology into Matt’s shoulder. He snorted. 

 

“When’s the last time you got sleep?”

 

Pidge didn’t reply. 

 

“Yeah, okay. I’ll tell the others you’ll miss dinner.”

 

Pidge grinned, allowing themselves to save how the astral plane aside worked for a different day. They had all their life to figure it out anyways. They drifted into blissful unawareness to Matt babbling about the meeting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like writing from Pidge's point of view, I dunno why. Maybe because they search for the bits of story I can't fit in the overarching plot? Dunno, they're just fun. 
> 
> I hope you all have a wonderful couple of weeks! Happy summer!!!!


	4. Shiro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's PTSD makes an unwelcome reappearance.

Shiro hadn’t relapsed in a long time. 

 

Yes, he still had nightmares, unexpected contact or loud noises spooked him, and purple lights made his chest tight, but he’d been doing well. He could separate fighting for his life and fighting for others lives in his head. He was starting to recognise common triggers in the castle, and was taking steps to avoid them. He was speaking to the others about his well being and collaborating with them to figure out the best and healthy ways to alleviate anxiety. It didn’t hurt that Lance and Hunk also took part in the activities. 

 

He’d been doing well. Better than he ever had since getting captured on Kerberos, really. He was learning to focus on the things he could control, and didn’t let the things he couldn’t bother him. It was massive improvement, and Shiro was slowly recognising his growth and being proud of it. 

 

Today wasn’t a good day, though. 

 

Shiro woke to his own screams. As soon as his eyes were open and comprehending of where he was, the dream was dissipating, leaving him sweaty and shivering in its wake. He sat up and checked grabbed his recently acquired wrist watch from the side table (a ‘glad to have you back’ gift from Allura, originally for fashion purposes, but Hunk had pointed out that if he was on the verge of a panic attack it could help him count his breaths and bring him down), peering close at the dim numbers. It was just after two. He wiped his sleeve over his damp forehead, debating attempting to catch a few more hours of sleep. He dashed the thought when his shaking increased and the watch face became a blur. 

 

He made his rounds, like he usually did when he couldn’t sleep, peering into everyone’s rooms. He started with Hunk, the most likely to always be asleep. Sure enough, Hunk was spread out across his mattress, blankets tangled at his feet, and snoring loudly. Shiro briefly debated pulling the sheets back up, but knew Hunk would only kick them back down, so he didn’t bother. 

 

He slipped to Pidge’s room next, pleased to see them curled in a tight ball, pressed into the corner of their bed. They still had their blanket’s, remarkably, and seemed to have cocooned themselves in their sleep. Though, seeing as the rest of the bed was taken up by various projects, it seemed Pidge had little choice but to either shove them off or use what little space remained. Shiro trusted they wouldn’t hurt themselves. 

 

He checked on Allura next, greeting the mice softly when they scurried to check who’d opened the door. Allura slept on an angle, stretching her body over it, and was probably the only person who could make sleeping look like a fashion statement. Her hair was pooled around her head, not a tangle to be seen, one hand rested on her stomach while the other curled around the pillow. Her blankets were drawn tight to her chest, and though she seemed slightly rigid, she was relaxed. Shiro patted the mice goodbye and made his way to Keith’s room. 

 

As he expected, he found both Keith and Lance in Keith’s room. Lance hardly slept in his own anymore, prefering to keep his skin and hair products there instead. Shiro suspected he’d shoved his clothes in Keith’s drawers, though he had no proof of it. The two were thoroughly tangled, making it hard to see where one of them began and the other ended in the dim lights. The blankets were nowhere to be seen, though they probably kept each other warm enough as it was. Shiro was oddly proud to observe that Keith had taken off his gloves, jacket, shoes,  _ and  _ pants before climbing into bed. He’d used to sleep fully clothed, gloves and all, and it had driven Shiro up the wall. It was good to see Lance was instilling good habits into Keith. 

 

With no idea where Coran slept still (Keith was trying to convince everyone that Coran was some sort of friendly cryptid due to this fact, and Shiro was starting to believe it), he had nothing else to occupy his mind. He glanced down the darkened halls, flesh fingers tapping his metallic hand, then made his way to the kitchen. He’d found out recently that exercising in the dark or early mornings increased his stress, since it was a habit he’d picked up from his time in capture. Going somewhere safe and turning on the lights helped, but he never knew what to do with himself. Keith had suggested picking up a hobby to keep him distracted, but nothing had captured his attention. 

 

By the time the others started to wake up, he’d gone through three workout routines. 

 

Coran was the first to show his face, gliding into the room at precisely five. He paused when he saw Shiro, but greeted him brightly, asking if he’d would like breakfast. Shiro, who’d forgotten to feed himself again, replied with a meek confirmation. Hunk was next, stumbling in at seven, attempting to cover up a yawn. He greeted the other two with a wave before shoving them away from the cooking supplies and utensils to make breakfast for everyone else. Allura came in just a little after, accepting the tea Hunk offered her and sitting on the counter, greeting the other two sunnily before turning her attention back to Hunk. Pidge slinked in a couple hours later, grabbing her somehow still warm plate and failing to dodge a hair ruffle from Shiro before dashing back out, probably set on getting some work done. Lance and Keith were the last, Keith practically dragging the other into the kitchen to grab their food and settle down at the table. They spoke quietly, heads bent together, sharing small smiles and gentle hand brushes. Shiro help back on teasing, even though it was both before Lance and after Keith usually got up. They’d really balanced each other out. 

 

Shiro felt dead by eleven, walking into walls and squinting at the bright florescent lights of the castle. He waved away the concern of the others, despite feeling both his brain and body screaming for rest. His senses were on high alert to compensate. Any noise was startling and ground on his eardrums, any unexpected touch had him tensing, and any shadow was an enemy. He was grumpy, he knew, and his patience thin, but he didn’t have the energy to fix it. He didn’t want to consult the others, either, so he did the best thing he could think of to avoid all their questions. He went into the training room, because no one else touched the room on their days off. 

 

Shiro should have probably had the foresight to tell this was going to go terribly, but his sleep deprived state wasn’t completely aware of anything. 

 

An hour later found him pressed into a wall, the gladiator in pieces and sinking into the floor, the training sequence automatically stopping with no command to continue, and his breathing almost non-existent. 

 

Though the room was large, it felt small, impossibly small, jail cell small. His metal arm weighed heavily on his right side, his shoulder aching like he’d just received the appendage. The blood pounding in his ears sounded like the roar of a crowd, loud and drowning, demanding more. More violence. More bloodshed. More fighting. More Champion. More. More. More. 

 

Keith found him before he accidentally hurt himself with his activated arm. 

 

* * *

Shiro, equal parts appreciative and sick of everyone’s worrying after his episode yesterday, took refuge in Black. She accepted him easily, activating her particle barrier and standing once he was safe in her pilot chair. He felt a little childish, hiding from his friends this way, but he needed a break from the constant check ups. He was okay now. He’d had a bad day, but he was okay now. 

 

He was okay now. 

 

Black hummed, low in his mind, questioning but not pushing. Shiro had initially been startled by how vocal she’d gotten in his time away, but it sometimes brought great comfort. He patted the console. 

 

“I’m okay. I just had a bad day yesterday. There’s no need to worry.”

 

Black hummed again. 

 

“Mm, well, just a relapse. It’s okay though.”

 

_ Just a relapse?  _ Black’s tone shifted to incredulous.  _ There is no such thing as  _ just  _ a relapse. Do not trivialize your pain.  _

 

“But it’s fine. I mean, it will be. It should be. Soon.”

 

She somehow vocalized a raised brow. Shiro shrugged. 

 

_ You’ve been doing well, so I will not push. Know you have many waiting and willing to help in any way, though. Myself included.  _

 

“I know. Everyone’s been pretty forward about that.”

 

It didn’t make him any less grateful. 

 

Black rumbled approvingly. Shiro closed his eyes, allowing the familiar vibration to soothe nerves he didn’t know were bristling. The days before they went to face Haggar were counting down to what he hoped would be the finale. Maybe that was why he’d relapsed yesterday. The looming thought of encountering her again left everyone tense, but no one more than Shiro and Lance. The closer they got, the more Lance wore his armour everywhere. The closer they got, the more phantom pains would act up in Shiro’s shoulder. The closer they got, the more nightmares they would have. 

 

The difference between them was that Lance was willing to open up about them at group bonding nights. Shiro had yet to speak about himself. 

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. He did. He was tired of the PTSD and depression. But something always held him back. He’s supposed to be the leader, isn’t he? The role model? What example would he be setting by saying getting out of bed some days took everything out of him? 

 

He knew they wouldn’t judge. He knew his team was loving and accepting, and would never make him feel bad about himself. They’d probably do everything in their power to help him through it. Which was kind of the problem; Shiro hated inconveniencing people. He’d rather avoid his problems than make it so someone had to take time for him. He was getting better at that, kind of. Or, at least, the others had gotten good at telling when he wasn’t doing well and adjusting their schedules accordingly. 

 

He sighed, a bone deep exhaustion making it impossible to be motivated to do anything. He was always tired, and when he wasn’t, he was restless. It was a difficult balancing act that he had no control over, but had learnt to work around through the months. It had started after his initial capture by the Galra. It had gotten worse after his trip to the astral plane. Shiro wondered if there would come a time he’d wake up and be unable to move. 

 

Black rumbled, interrupting his thoughts. He slowly pried his eyes open, staring at the roof of her cockpit. After another moment, he sighed again and pushed himself to standing. She slowly lowered herself, careful not to jostle him. Shiro patted her walls as he exited.

 

“I’ll be okay, girl. Don’t worry.” 

 

* * *

Lance handed him his bayard, a grin on his face. “Here ya go, Shiro! This is your second time holding it, right? Come on, we want to know what it is!” 

 

Shiro snorted, turning the object this way and that. They were approaching the one week before the attack mark, and Shiro had made the decision that they needed to swap their bayards back. The team agreed. They didn’t need everyone for it, though, so it was only him, Lance, Allura, and Coran. The others had gone their separate ways, offering luck and support as they went. 

 

Lance had practically cooed when Allura handed him the blue bayard, coddling it to his chest like a pet he’d been forced to part with. He’d treated the black bayard in the same fashion, but more like a pet he’d have to give up. As soon as he’d turned to Shiro, though, his theatrically teary expression had been wiped clean and replaced with an elated grin. 

 

Shiro wasn’t entirely sure how to activate it. He knew it would respond to his will, almost like another limb, but the feeling was foreign. Not unpleasant, just different. The one time he’d used the black bayard was in the fight against Zarkon, and that had felt entirely different to this. For a moment, the fear that it would be the same as Zarkon’s gripped his heart, but he dismissed it. The bayard was different for everyone. It would be ridiculous if it took the form of that warped blade. 

 

Despite his logic, Shiro was quick to materialize it to dissuade any lingering fears. 

 

Shiro was temporarily blinded when his bayard flashed, then settled. He stared at the gauntlet that took its place, flexing his fingers. It had materialized on his flesh hand, adding to the protection of his armour. It was simple, and didn’t move or shift when he shook his hand a bit. It was black and white with blue accents, as expected of the bayard. He glanced at the others. 

 

“Oh, that is highly unusual!” Coran took his arm and examined the bayard closely. “I haven’t seen this kind of form. Even when the original paladins could materialize their bayards to whatever form they wanted, none had this! Not even Zarkon!”

 

Shiro didn’t let his relief show. “Really?”

 

“That’s so cool! Now you can fight with both hands, like,” Lance demonstrated with a couple punches to the air, hopping from one foot to the other, imitating a boxer, "pow pow pow!"

 

Allura smiled at the spectacle, then turned her gentle gaze to Shiro. “I have no doubt you’ll do excellently with your bayard, Shiro. If you need a sparring partner to test it out, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll be more than willing to assist. Besides, I need to practice channelling my quintessence through my staff now. It shouldn’t be too difficult, but I’d still appreciate the help.”

 

“Of course, princess. I’d be happy to take you up on that.”

 

Allure nodded, looking more pleased than the situation should call for. She said something about a shower and slipped back out of the room, quickly followed by an excited Coran, who wanted to comb through the training rooms programing to make sure it would be a good challenge for Shiro. Lance glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, something Shiro ignored in favour of looking over his bayard, which he reverted to its original form. 

 

“You know she basically just asked you on a date, right?”

 

Shiro sputtered, bayard slipping from his fingers. He fumbled to catch it, sending Lance a glare for laughing. “No, she didn’t. She just- she was asking for- she wants to spar. That’s not a date.” 

 

“Try telling that to Keith. Every other date is a spar if he has any say in it. Which, by the way, he  _ doesn’t. _ ”

 

“Lance, be nice. He’s not used to dating, he’s not sure how to go about it.” 

 

“I know, I know, but still. I’m in charge of dates for a reason. Well, me or the others. But I’m still trying to set up a date for Hunk and Shay as thanks.”

 

“Hunk and Shay are dating?”

 

“Not yet.” 

 

Shiro tried to give Lance a reprimanding stare, but it fell flat when he was grinning. Lance grinned back, unapologetic to a fault. 

 

“By the way, and I know you hate this question-”

 

“Lance-”

 

“How’ve you been, man?”

 

Shiro sighed and stared at him. Lance’s face twisted with understanding. 

 

“Yeah, same.”

 

“I haven’t told you how I am.”

 

“Don’t need to. You look like a man at the end of his ropes. And, really, same. This intergalactic war was cool for a while but now it’s just exhausting.” 

 

Shiro rubbed his face, groaning lowly. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”

 

“You haven’t wanted to talk about this for, what, weeks? Months?” Lance’s voice dropped, gentle but unwavering. “You need to. Maybe not with us. Maybe when this is over, we’ll sign you up with a therapist. You know, someone actually paid to listen and help you through stuff. I…. I probably need one too. Hell, we all need therapists. Which isn’t bad. Therapy exists to improve yourself, right?”

 

Shiro dropped his hands, giving Lance an analytical glance. He was silent for a long time. 

 

“... Yeah, maybe. I don’t know.”

 

Lance shrugged. “Can’t force you into it, but you should really seriously consider it. Cause, you know, PTSD is no joke. And ours is not the worst, but it’s really rough.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll think about that. Later.” He tapped his fingers along his metal hand, watching Lance perform a similar action on his chest. “When did you get so wise?”

 

“When a witch tore out my still beating heart. You get weirdly sentimental after dying.” 

 

Shiro knew the joke was probably a bad sign. A coping mechanism to hide deep wounds, back to back with throwing yourself into work to distract yourself. Shiro was well acquainted with poor ways of dealing with mental health. 

 

He still found himself bent at the waist, wheezing, caught off guard and unsure why he found that so funny but did all the same. At least Lance was right there with him, laughing until both of them forgot that there were wounds to hide. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this being late, I spent Father's Day weekend with my dad, and it takes a couple hours to get to his place. But I'm home now and can post this! I haven't given Shiro much spotlight, but I found writing for him unexpectedly fun! Who knew? 
> 
> Season 6 was amazing and I loved all of it. It blew my mind. I'm so excited for the next season you have no idea. Season 6 also reminded me that I don't have many Keith and Shiro scenes, which I really need to include since their brothers and all. 
> 
> Wishing you all the best, be safe! See you next time~.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time, guys. I've decided to split this next update I have planned over chapters, so it'll be shorter, easier to do, and none of you will end up waiting another six months for me. I am so sorry for the wait, juggling university and a job is harder than I thought. But I'm taking a semester off, and want to get at least this segment done before I go back to uni in August/September. We have months to go, I think I can make it. 
> 
> I'll try my best to update every two weeks. It'll either be on a Friday or Saturday typically, I just wanted to get this first part out to motivate myself. If you've forgotten what's happening, feel free to visit the rest of the series, this isn't going anywhere. I'm again so sorry for being so late, but I want to do my best! I really, really want to finish this! Not just for me, but for everyone who's still following the series. Thank you all so much. It means the world to me. 
> 
> I'll hopefully see you guys in two weeks. Keep safe, healthy, and don't forget to eat/drink water/shower/take any meds you have. You're all so important, never forget that. 
> 
> Hasta luego, amigos!


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